Big Brother House: AnkhMorpork
by Lunar1
Summary: Big Brother comes to Ankh-Morpork... in the guise of a money making exploit for charity. (Not quite as daft as it sounds... but almost!)
1. Arrivals

* * *

Okay folks... I swore I would never write something like this... but it just had to happen, didn't it? You can blame Yap for this. Yap mentioned 'Discworld's Big Brother' and my brain went into overload trying to think of a plausible reason for having one... afraid that this is the best I could come up with! I've tried to keep everyone reasonably within character but the very nature of this daft little fic means that sometimes they slip a little. Apologies for that but I hope you at least get a good laugh out of it. I tried my best to be funny! Indicates images on screen Oh, and Big Brother= The Watcher.   


* * *

Commander Vimes straightened the hang of his hated official uniform a little nervously in the long mirror. He went through to the breakfast room and allowed Lady Sybil to brush some lint off his shoulders he was quite sure was imaginary, or perhaps only visible to women. 

"Don't look so worried Sam. I'm sure nothing /bad/ is going to happen."

Vimes didn't share his wife's sentiment. He nodded mournfully, privately thinking that the upcoming meeting was perhaps the best opportunity Vetinari had been presented in /years/ to seriously annoy his Chief-of-Police. And it was all Carrot's fault. Vimes was going to /kill/ him.

He kissed his wife goodbye and turned to Little Sam. He /had/ intended to pat his infant son on the head before going out, but Sam was not responding well to his mother's attempts to feed him solid (if the mush that was labelled 'baby food' could be considered solid; Vimes certainly didn't class it as such) food, although from what Vimes saw his son had a very promising career developing as a modern interior designer; he was quite skilful in plastering very specific areas (his father's face, his mother's clothes, his own hair) in the orange gunk that Sybil was unsuccessfully trying to get him to eat. 

In an attempt to avoid being coated in the mess he simply transferred a kiss from his fingers to the only clean spot on Sam's cheeks before hurrying out as the baby apparently took aim. 

Carrot was waiting for him patiently outside the Yard. "Good morning sir!" he said, cheerfully.

"I doubt it," Vimes replied witheringly as he quickened pace to get to the Palace on time. 

"Sir... surely you're pleased that the Patrician wants to involve you as one of our most prominent members of society in the Fundraising Committee for Noble Causes?" Carrot took in Vimes's expression. /Obviously not,/ he thought. 

"Don't get me wrong, Captain. I'm all for charity. I just get a little nervous when people start officialising acts of kindness."

Carrot could not think of any reply to that, so they walked the rest of the way in silence.

The door to the Oval Office was ajar, and Vimes took a deep breath before pushing it open enough for him and the Captain to pass through. Representatives from most of the major guilds were there; Assassins, Wizards, Thieves, Beggars, Seamstresses... even William de Word from /The Times./ Vimes's eyes narrowed as William gave him a 'friendly' smile. 

"Ah, Commander. And Captain. So good of you to join us," said Vetinari from his place at the head of the table. "Please, take your seats. We have much to discuss."

Vimes sat down gloomily and pulled towards him the thick folder that lay on his desk. "You all know why you are here," Vetinari continued, "It has been decided that responsibility lies in the community for the treatment of the needy in society." Vetinari looked about as happy as Vimes at this decision. "As such I have called this meeting with the main representatives of all the major guilds and groups in the city to discuss a strategy for fundraising..."

*

Three hours later Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to make his headache go away.

"Look," Dr. Whiteface was saying, looking decidedly /red/ in the face despite his make-up, "Custard pie throwing is regulated by the Fool's Guild. Any unauthorised slapstick performed by non-members would clearly be in breach of Guild Laws and as such the Fool's Guild would be well within their rights to punish wrongdoers." 

Vetinari cleared his throat. "Gentlemen," he said spreading his hands, "And ladies. I think we are in accordance that Idea Number Thirty Three: Throwing Custard Pies At Guild Leaders is unfeasible due to Fool's Guild law. Now, does anyone have any other ideas?"

There was a general shaking of heads. "Alright," Vetinari sighed. "This meeting is closed. We will reconvene in three days time. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your time."

There was a scraping of chairs as everyone hurried to leave, Vimes managing somehow to clear the desk from a standing start and be the first through the door; only just beating Archancellor Ridcully to it, who had /accidentally/ caught Boggis of the Thieves' Guild around the shins with his staff moments before as the man had attempted to push past.

When the room had finally cleared Vetinari permitted himself a small sigh of exasperation. He took the key from his desk that unlocked Leonard's airy prison and two minutes later was pushing open the heavy oak door with a surprising degree of care.

Leonard's experiments for today seemed fairly harmless. From the look of it he had set up a small camera, not at all like the huge cumbersome things used in the Moving Pictures industry, but instead quite small; compact even. Whatever it was filming was being projected onto a screen. It appeared to be a street scene visible from outside the skylight.

"Ah! My lord," Leonard called from his comfortable seat, "Come in, come in!"

Vetinari shut the door behind him. "What are you doing, Leonard?" he asked, not unkindly.

Leonard looked slightly shamefaced. "Uh, observing, my lord. It is... fascinating I must admit."

Vetinari smiled thinly. "This camera is impressive, Leonard."

"Thank you."

"Tell me Leonard, can you think of a method of fundraising which no-one in this city could object to?"

Leonard thought for a moment. "Well..."

*

Vimes sat down at his place at the table again and once more pulled the folder towards him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I think I may have the answer to our problems," Vetinari said. Vimes glanced up and met his eyes, not liking the slightly amused look in the icy blue gaze /at all./

He flicked through the papers on which Leonard's plan was outlined and swore under his breath. "You cannot be serious?"

"You seriously want to put seven people in a house and broadcast their antics to the general public?"

"And get them to /pay/ to vote out one person each week?"

"It'll never work."

"Never."

"There's just no possibility that people would /pay/ to see such rubbish!"

"I agree," Vimes said, fairly quietly, "Anyway, who'd be likely to volunteer to be stuck in a house like that?"

Vetinari met his gaze again. /Oh no,/ thought Vimes, /You had to ask, didn't you?/

"I was hoping, Commander, that the members of this committee would be willing to volunteer."

"I was afraid of that," muttered Vimes.

*

His bags were packed and he had kissed his wife and son goodbye twenty minutes ago. Sitting on the hard backed chair waiting for his name to be called Vimes wondered again just how he had managed to get into this mess. Volunteering for charity work... if it hadn't been for William de Word printing all the names of those asked to participate in the secret fundraising project in his wretched newspaper Vimes was quite certain he would have been able to weasel his way out of it, somehow. 

Now he was contemplating spending possibly eight weeks in a house with six other people, with cameras broadcasting all of the action into Unseen University's Great Hall where the public could pay to view it! And what was even worse was that it was already proving popular! Tickets to watch the entrance of the housemates had already sold out!

He took out his engraved cigar case and stared at the writing. He was slightly ashamed to admit it, but he was going to miss his wife and son. He'd grown quite used to hurrying home to spend time in their company and now he might not see them for quite a while.

With any look he'd be evicted at the end of this week and could go home. He put the cigar case away. The surname 'Vimes' meant he was going to be the last man to enter the specially constructed house that had been built in UU's gardens over the past two months. 

A junior wizard appeared at the door and favoured Vimes with a small smile. "Time to go now, sir." 

"Oh great."

Vimes followed the younger man slowly down the path to the house, surrounded by menacing fences. The gate was opened and he passed through into the house.

Seated around the table were the six other contestants; Otto Chriek, CMOT Dibbler, Detritus, Cheery Littlebottom, the soprano singer Christine and the Librarian.

"Morning," Vimes said, extracting his cigars again.

"Good mornink."

"Mornin'"

"Morning squire."

"Good morning!!"

"Ook!"

"Morning sir," replied Cheery, "This is the kitchen and sitting room; the bedrooms are through those doors over there and that is the diary room." 

"Diary room?"

"Yes sir. You did read the briefing material, didn't you sir?"

"Briefly. And drop the sir, Cheery. First name basis in the Watching-People-House."

"Yes si-Sir Samuel." 

Vimes gritted his teeth. "Cheery. For gods' sake! Sam! Vimes if you really must!"

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Vimes lit one of his cigars, fervently hoping his supplies would last the next week.

*

There was an air of expectancy in the Great Hall of Unseen University; people were fidgeting in their seats and minor fights were breaking out as various members of society sought to get the best view possible of the wall sized screen on which the first day's antics of the housemates would be broadcast. 

The screen flickered into life and a hush descended on the Hall. The opening credits rolled, a huge eye blinked down at the assembled multitude.

"Hello! This is the Watcher! And welcome to our first edition of Watching-People-House!" said the narrator. "The housemates have now spent twelve hours in the house and today they have been set their weekly challenge, been instructed to make a shopping list and we will shortly be going LIVE to the house in order to surprise the housemates! But first we want to introduce you to the seven new housemates!"

The picture on the screen changed to show Otto's face.

"Otto Chriek: a member of the black-ribboners and photographer for /The Times/. Otto has taken in three pairs of sunglasses and his luxury item was his factor three-hundred and forty suncream."

Christine's pale visage appeared on screen.

"Christine is a soprano at the Opera House in Ankh Morpork. She bought in her ballgown and her luxury item was her vanity case."

CMOT Dibbler's grin replaced Christine's.

"CMOT Dibbler describes himself as a merchant adventurer. He's taken in a bottle of Wow-Wow sauce and a poster from the film 'Blown Away.'

Detritus replaced Dibbler.

"Detritus the troll, Sergeant in Ankh-Morpork City Watch, opted to take in as many shale buns as he could, his luxury item was his clockwork cooling helmet."

The Librarian ooked excitedly on screen.

"The Librarian packed his case with bananas. His luxury item was his green dressing gown."

Cheery Littlebottom waved to all the viewers on screen.

"Cheery, Corporal in the Watch, took into the house her mining helmet and her luxury item was her high heeled iron boots."

Vimes scowled down from the screen. 

"Commander Vimes, here representing the Ankh-Morpork nobility (rather grudgingly) managed to pack only three shirts, using the rest of the space available to pack as many cigars as he could. The Watcher has calculated that he has a supply of three hundred and thirty. We are reliably informed this might last him a week. His luxury item was his silver cigar case."

The pictures disappeared. "Today in the house the housemates have been busy settling in and personalising the Watching-People-House."  
  


Vimes finished tacking up his picture of Sybil and Sam over his bed with a sigh. Over the other side of the room Detritus was lovingly arranging his rockery on his bedside table. /Just don't ask,/ thought Vimes, /Just don't ask!/

Otto had already colonised the walk-in-wardrobe as his bed, on the premise that it was dark enough and had a bar for him to hang on; also the smell mothballs reminded him of Uberwald. CMOT Dibbler had put up his poster and was busy cooking their first meal.

"Dinner's ready!" shouted Dibbler from the kitchen.

The others assembled around the table quickly. Dibbler revealed the fruits of his labour, highly suspicious sausages coated in what was probably (all though with Dibbler nothing was ever certain) Wow-Wow sauce. The air shimmered above the plate of hot dogs in a heat haze. There was the suggesting of blistering of the varnish on the wooden table top.

Vimes, feeling perhaps it was his duty to take the first sausage, picked one up gingerly and took a bite. Encouraged by the fact that his expression did not change greatly as he chewed, the others followed suite. Vimes swallowed.

There was a brief pause in which nothing more happened than Vimes's eyes beginning to cross. He managed to say something that sounded a bit like 'Margh!' but modulated and about three octaves higher than his normal vocal range; suggesting an action normally associated with the secret horseman's words. 

He ran out of the house and into the garden, closely followed by most of the other hosuemates. There was a splash as he hit the water of the swimming pool and then the hiss of rising steam. Only Detritus remained sitting, chewing pensively on his sausage. A grin spread slowly across his face. "Nice! Dis is just like what my Uncle Gneiss used to cook from the volcanic lava when I were a pebble!" The Librarian, hanging from the ceiling, hadn't eaten any of the sausages; he peeled a banana reflectively with his feet.

"Never ever EVER cook again," said Vimes, slightly damply, from the garden.

"Oh no!! I'm all wet!! My mascara's running!!!"

"That's what happens when you jump headfirst into a swimming pool," Cheery bit back at Christine, in tones of withering scorn. 

"Ook Ook Ooook!"

"Was that 'help there's an escaped panda in the swimming pool?'" said Cheery nastily.

"Now now ladies," said Otto, "No fighting please."

*

"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. Would someone please come to the Diary Room?"

"I'll go!" shouted Vimes, who had been snoozing on the sofas whilst the others were outside in the garden (apart from Otto, who was in the wardrobe.)

"Hello Sam," said the Watcher, as soon as Vimes closed the door. "On the chair is this week's task. Can you take it out of the Diary Room and read it to the other housemates?"

"Can do," Vimes replied, picking up the paper. "EVERYONE! Message from The Watcher!" he shouted as he headed out into the garden. 

The others sat up or swam over to the edge of the swimming pool as Vimes prepared to read. Otto appeared, in his sunglasses and smothered in suncream. 

"What does it say?!" asked Christine.

"Housemates, the Watcher has set this week's challenge. Housemates are required to be locked in the girls bedroom for ten minutes whilst the equipment is set up." Vimes turned the paper over a few times. "That's it."

After fifteen minutes had actually transpired Vimes tried the handle of the bedroom door and found that they could get into the house again. 

"Oh! Look! In the garden!" said Cheery.

In the garden there were now seven tailor's dummies. Vimes picked up a piece of paper laid on the ground by the largest of the dummies, which was labelled 'Detritus.'

"Housemates" he read aloud, "This week's task is to inflict as much damage as possible on your dummy in thirty seconds," Vimes's face split into a grin, "The housemates will be called in no particular order at any time of the day or night over the next four days. In order to pass this week's challenge every housemate must score over fifty damage points. Excess damage points caused by other housemates will not be taken into consideration on the overall score."

*

"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. Cheery, you have ten seconds to prepare yourself to attack your dummy!"

Cheery let out a yelp of surprise and ran into the garden. A klaxon blared and she set about the wooden man, egged on by her fellow housemates.

"Hit it!!" That was Christine.

"Kick it!" Dibbler advised.

It soon became apparent that every time a point was scored there was a beep. Vimes tried to count under his breath but the bleeps were to numerous, too fast.

"Get de head!" That was Detritus.

"Cheery, elbow it! Elbow it in the stomach!" bellowed Vimes, red in the face.

"Oh! I am not sure all zis violence is a good thing." That was Otto.

"Ook!"

The klaxon blared again and Cheery stopped. "I only counted forty-seven bleeps," she said, ashen faced.

"Nah," said Dibbler, "I got at least fifty three."

"You did good, Cheery," Detritus informed her and Vimes nodded his assent.

"I wonder who'll be next?!" said Christine.  
  


There was laughter in the Great Hall as the Watching-People-House eye reappeared on screen. "We now go live to the Watching-People House in order to surprise out housemates!"

The eye changed into the view of the sitting room where the housemates were gathered.  
  


"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. You are live in the Great Hall, please do not swear!"

"Hello Watcher!!" said Christine, echoed by Dibbler and Cheery.

"You will now be called into the Diary Room in alphabetical order," said the Watcher, "You must not discuss what is said in the Diary Room with other housemates. Will Otto please come to the Diary Room?"

The vampire complied, looking rather nervous.

"Hello Otto," said the voice of the Watcher as the door shut. Otto perched apprehensively on the comfortable chair. "Would you please nominate the two housemates you would like to put up for eviction." 

"Vat? Now?"

"Yes Otto."

"But I thought..?"

"The Watcher needs the name of your first nominee now Otto."

"Okay," said Otto. He thought for a moment. "My first nomination is Sam Vimes."

"Can you tell us why?" prompted the Watcher.

"Vell... he doesn't seem very happy about me living in the wardrobe... and out of all the housemates here I think I'll be able to bond with him the least." He looked uncomfortable.

"And your second nomination?"

"I think it will have to be Dibbler," Otto said. "His cooking is terrible!"

"Thank you Otto. Will Christine please come to the Diary Room!"

Christine perched on the chair. "What is it, Mister Watcher!?" she squeaked.

"The Watcher require your nominations."

"Oh. Okay! Um! Firstly, Mister Dibbler!! Because his cooking is just awful!! And secondly, Cheery! Because I don't think I can stand another /day/ with her!!"

"Thank you Christine. Will Dibbler please come to the Diary Room!"

Dibbler looked uneasy on his seat. "I'll have to nominate Christine," he said. "Her voice is annoying me terribly. And secondly, Mister Vimes. Because he's very bad tempered."

"Thank you Dibbler. Can Detritus please come to the Diary Room!"

"Well. I fink I'll have to nominate Christine. Because she upset Cheery. And Dibbler because the others don't like his cookin'."

"Thanks Detritus. Can Cheery please come to the Diary Room!"

"I think I'll nominate Christine, because she annoys me and I think she might fail the task for us. And Dibbler, because his cooking was so foul!"

"Thank you Cheery. Librarian to the Diary Room, please!"

"Ook. Ook, ook ook eeek! EEEK! Ook."

"Can we just confirm that was 'Christine because she ate one of your bananas' and 'Dibbler because he can't cook?'"

"Ook."

"Thank you. Can Sam come to the diary room please!"

Vimes sat down looking unsettled. "Yes. I'd like to nominate Otto, because I think of all the housemates he's the one I get on the least with. And Christine because I don't think she's really enjoying life in the house and I think she might jeopardise the task."  
  


"There you have it!" said the Watcher to the audience in the Great Hall, who were talking so loudly amongst themselves it was a wonder the narrator could be heard. To both the hall and house they added: "This weeks housemates up for nomination are going to be, in alphabetical order.... Christine.... and CMOT Dibbler."  
  


Christine immediately burst into tears and ran into the girls's bedroom. Cheery appeared to fight an internal battle, lose, and then followed her into the room to comfort her. Dibbler simply nodded to himself, still smiling after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence conversation began again.  
  


"Who goes?" said the Watcher to the Great Hall audience. "You decide! To vote for Christine put a penny in Christine's box. To vote for Dibbler, put a penny in Dibbler's box. The housemate who's box contains the most money by Friday is out!"


	2. Week One

"Hello and welcome to Watching-People-House! Today, Tuesday, was the second day spent in the house by the housemates. In tonight's half hour installment we bring you highlights from the house. Please note that this broadcast may contain strong language."

  
  


"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. Christine, you have ten seconds to prepare yourself to attack your dummy!"

"Ah!!" squeaked Christine as the voice echoed through the dark house, waking her and all the other housemates who were asleep at one o'clock in the morning.

"Quick!" Cheery instructed, "Just run!"

Christine was still in her night gown as she ran into the garden. Vimes, Otto and the Librarian had been still awake and sitting on the sofa, discussing how wise the decision had been to bet seventy-five percent of next week's shopping bill on the outcome of the task. Christine streaked past them and Otto fell off his chair. Vimes gave him a funny look as he writhed on the floor. "Now what?" he muttered. The klaxon blared and Christine stood somewhat transfixed in front of her dummy, as if confused about what to do.

"Just hit it!" shouted Dibbler, emerging from the bedroom..

"Um!!"

"Come on!"

"Times nearly up!" shouted Cheery.

"Um!!" she repeated.

"Oook!" advised the Librarian as she slapped the dummy, quite hard. There was a beep.

"What the hell's the matter with him?" asked Dibbler, pointing to Otto.

"He's had an episode," Vimes said moodily, retrieving an apple from the fruit bowl and stuffing it into the vampire's mouth. "The sight of a young lady in a night dress was apparently too much for him, reminded him too much of his vampire heritage."

"Ffank Oo," said Otto from behind the sofa.

"Christine!" yelled Cheery, seized suddenly by a brilliant idea. "Sing!!"

Christine thankfully responded quickly to the voice of authority. She opened her mouth and began to wail.

Vimes felt all the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up as he clapped his hands over his ears. "What is that?!"

"Op'ra!" Detritus replied, who having spent quite a lot of time in the Opera House on guard considered himself quite an expert on the subject now. "It cult'ral."

The dummy shivered and cracks began to appear, the beeps rising in tone and frequency like a Geiger-Muller tube pointing towards plutonium. The klaxon blared again and Christine paused for breath.

"That's enough!"

"Stop!"

"STOP!"

"OOK!"

Christine thankfully stopped. "Do you think that was alright?!" she twittered.

The other housemates tried not to look at each other. "Yeah," said Cheery as Christine looked as if she was about to cry again. 

"Oh good!!"

"Come on," said Cheery, "I'm going back to bed. See you all in the morning."

*

The housemates were late to rise the next morning and missed the hour of hot water provided by the Watcher. It was Vimes's turn to cook breakfast. Vimes wasn't a particularly good cook, but after Dibbler's explosive sausages /anything/ could taste appetising, so his crunchy bacon and deep fried bread went down well.

The housemates had all settled down on the sofas for a talk when the Watcher spoke again. 

"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher! The Librarian has ten seconds to prepare himself to attack his dummy!"

The Librarian knuckled into the garden at high speed, ooking excitedly. The klaxon blared and with a final eek of excitement he launched himself onto his dummy and twisted its head off, by its ears. There was not so much a series of beeps but a continual squeal. He rounded off by smashing the pathetic remnants on the floor, before the klaxon blared again and called his destructive rampage to a halt. 

The other housemates looked at the splinters that remained. "Impressive," said Dibbler.

*

Vimes poked his head around the Diary Room door, the last of the housemates to be called in for an interview with the Watcher. He sat down on the large chair, swinging his legs in uncharacteristic nervousness.

"Hello, Watcher."

"Hello Sam. How are you finding life in the house so far?"

"Well," said Vimes, his expression somewhat guarded, "...Okay I suppose."

"Can you elaborate? What's the hardest thing about life in the house?"

"Being away from my family," he replied quickly. 

"Is there anything you'd like to say to them in particular?" prompted the Watcher.

Vimes gave an embarrassed little wave to the camera. "Hello Sam. Behave for your mother please. See you soon."

"What do you like about the house?"

Vimes thought about it. "The bathroom's nice..." he suggested, "And it is relaxing not having to run around as much. The garden's good too."

*

The afternoon was passed mostly in or around the swimming pool. Vimes and Dibbler were playing quite vicious water-polo, the ball smacking into the water and occasionally off the heads and arms of the players, making them wince and throw the ball even harder in retaliation. Detritus was scoring, wearing his clockwork cooling helmet whilst Christine and Cheery sunbathed well away from the pool area. 

Vimes, having eventually lost to Dibbler, swam over to the side of the pool. He wasn't the best of swimmers not having ever found much time to practise, and there were few places for a boy growing up in the Shades to learn. "Wonder what's happening out there?" he said, pointing with his thumb over the wall.

"We're not allowed to know, are we?" said Dibbler.

"I know that," said Vimes, splashing his face with water, "I just /wonder/.

"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. Detritus, you have ten seconds to prepare yourself to begin the task!

"Okay," replied the troll, lumbering up to his dummy. The klaxon blared and Detritus regarded it for a moment before smashing it over the head with his fist. There was a strangled beep. The klaxon shrilled again. Vimes allowed himself a thin smile.

The film stopped rolling. "Did you see that?" said Lady Sybil to her son, who was gurgling on her lap, "Your Daddy was on the screen!"

Sam laughed and clapped his hands together once in mirth as the Hall began to empty, the clunk of coins landing in the voting boxes sounding quite loud over the shuffling of feet, chairs and the chatter of voices.

Outside was a crowd of people in the street selling all sorts of merchandise. There were shirts with Christine's face on, badges that displayed Dibbler's broad grin; placards and various other pieces of cheap tat, purveyed by men with trays, smoking small cigarettes and speaking out of the corner of their mouths while glancing furtively about. There were no real copyright laws in Ankh-Morpork, but Watching-People-House was a charity fundraising enterprise after all, and the Watch were watching from the sidelines rather uneasily; unsure as to whether or not they should move the men on. Sybil paused for a moment to inspect a large sugary lollipop with 'Vimes to Win' written on it in sticky icing.

Wednesday dawned bright and blue, the sky unusually clear. Vimes was the first housemate awake, his bodyclock still set to 'baby-time' : he frequently woke up in the middle of the night imagining he could hear crying and by six o'clock in the morning he could stay in bed no longer. He'd already showered by the time anyone else was awake and was cleaning the kitchen. The Watcher had strict rules about cleaning and following them rather grudgingly Vimes was therefore wearing a large apron and pink rubber gloves. He could imagine the sniggers in the Great Hall already.

Detritus was the next to emerge, followed by Cheery. There was something about being in the Watch that disturbed the sleeping pattern of an officer, Vimes knew. He wasn't surprised to see the slump over the dining table. He poured out some coffee and took them a cup each. Cheery took it, struggling to regain her mental balance at the role-reversal: the Commander bringing his officers coffee. Detritus downed the scalding gunk.

"This is the Watcher. Dibbler, you have ten seconds to prepare yourself to begin the task!"

Dibbler staggered from the bedroom and into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of Wow-Wow sauce off the table.

"What the..?" said Cheery, confused as the klaxon echoed from the garden.

Dibbler stood well back from the dummy and squeezed the bottle hard. The sauce hit the dummy in the head. Nothing happened for a moment... and then smoke began to rise and the dummy burst into flames. By the time the klaxon signalled the end of Dibbler's thirty seconds there was nothing left but a pile of ash.

"Very good!" said Otto, emerging from the bedroom in his shades. 

*

"Sam, this is the Watcher. You have tens seconds to prepare yourself to undertake your task."

Vimes leapt out of the swimming pool with a yelp, water streaming down his legs as he dashed across the lawn to face his dummy.

The klaxon signalled the beginning of his turn and the others turned to watch. Cheery and Detritus had seen the Commander fight before, but even they were impressed. Vimes didn't have Detritus's brute strength, or muscles like the Librarian but he did have an amazing ability to rain a variety of painful looking blows on his opponent. A particularly powerful kick knocked the head flying from the body, and the klaxon sounded to signal the end of his bout.

"Only Otto left now," remarked Cheery as Vimes plunged into the pool again, wondering whether it would be an unforgivable extravagance to have one installed at home; he was rather enjoying swimming.

*

It was nearly eleven o'clock on Thursday when Otto was called to end the week's task. The vampire ran into the dark garden just in time. The dummy didn't stand up very long under the strength of his somewhat hesitant punches and the housemates went to bed feeling quietly confident about their task.

Friday morning they were woken at nine o'clock by the Watcher. Vimes and Cheery had been already awake, talking on the sofas. Cheery still found it slightly unnerving, treating her boss as an equal but had been in deep, expansive explanation of dwarf literature (Vimes had been listening with a suitably glazed expression).

The others emerged groggily from the bedrooms. "Just think!" said Christine to Dibbler, "This is the last day in the house for one of us!!"

"Housemates, this is the Watcher. Can you please assemble on the sofas."

They all sat.

"The results of this week's challenge will be announced shortly," said the Watcher, "Please remain seated for the time being."

They waited.

"The stipulation for this week's challenge was that every member of the house must score at least fifty points in thirty seconds. All housemates managed to score over fifty points of damage to their dummy."

They exchanged glances, hardly daring to believe...

"However. One housemate did not score those fifty points within the allotted time. Therefore you have failed this week's task. Your shopping budget for next week with therefore be thirty dollars."

Complete silence reigned for a few moments broken by Christine's sob. "It was me!! Oh, I failed it for all of us!!"

"You don't know that Christine," Cheery reassured her quickly, "It could have been me. Would you like a tissue?" she added gingerly as Christine continued to cry.

"That means we only have five dollars each for the whole week," said Dibbler, who could be quite quick when it came to monetary arithmetic

"I've managed on less," said Vimes, who was nevertheless looking even more disgruntled than usual.

"Yes... but a packet of Pantweeds costs a dollar, doesn't it?" said Cheery tentatively.

"Yes," Vimes said darkly, realisation already having dawned on him that, as the only smoker in the house, his desire for cigars was likely to be overruled by the need of the others for bare necessities like bread and toilet paper. He didn't have a great many left.

"Remember the Watcher provides us with staples... rice, potatoes," said Otto as a busy silence descended on the room.

"We could survive on a loaf of bread a day," said Dibbler, looking throughly mournful at the prospect, almost beginning to hope that he would be evicted that evening so he would still be able to enjoy three square meals a day.

  
  


+++++++++++

Thanks for the reviews people. If any of you have some ideas for surprises to spring on the housemates, email 'em to me. I can only go by what I've watched on the English Big Brother... I have a few things up my sleeve, though... Hehehe! 


End file.
